


A World Unto Itself

by angelplates (pelinal)



Series: The Song of Divine Safiya the Nine-Fingered [3]
Category: Divinity: Original Sin (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, Oral Sex, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27567160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pelinal/pseuds/angelplates
Summary: The front doors of the Cathedral were already wide open, and I could hear the commotion outside. Servants in rich clothes spilled inside, a cresting wave of jewels and perfume—Sadha in the centre, practically blinding. Her robes, deep blue, trailed behind her.She took my hands when she came to me, and held them tightly for a while. I looked into her eyes, that endless crystal blue. The sweet smell of jasmine was about her, as it always was.
Relationships: Godwoken/Sadha (Divinity: Original Sin)
Series: The Song of Divine Safiya the Nine-Fingered [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860325
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	1. Year 5, Day 150

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey! this is for all intents and purposes just a quick oneshot while i work on the next instalment of this divine mess (which hopefully will be up in the near future) 0:)

I don't think I need a house after all.  
  


I mean—yes, it would be lovely to disappear into the fabric of a town somewhere, but I don't think I'll ever get that chance again. And I like the Cathedral. It's noisy, and bursting with worshipers, but. . .I have my quarters, and all the priests and priestesses are lovely to me—  
  


I'm even fond of Arhu, so help me.  
  


Especially on nights like these; the heart of spring, when the rain falls in sheets, and he and I sit in his study and card through correspondence and whatever other documents are around. We have tea. And Arhu is as tolerant of me as he ever gets. Maybe because we don't talk.  
  


On the top of my pile tonight was a bundle of rough paper missives, marked from the forest elves of the Waewenys branch. I handed them off to Arhu. He knows I don't like to see the name. (Also ~~the painting of Ula~~ the portrait I bullied Ram into painting, it's with him now, in the Oak atelier. It is a relief not to look at it.)  
  


I closed my eyes for a moment, listening to the clatter of the rain. Then I went back to my stack of pages: invoices for food the sisters had bought on the credit of the Cathedral; various threats; people asking for coin. (The priests have a template for those. The gist of it is "sorry, we don't mail out cheques, but we have food and shelter for anyone who comes to the Cathedral".)  
  


"Do you have as much rubbish as I do?" I asked.  
  


Arhu didn't look up. "The brothers are busy enough."  
  


"But I have forty-five money letters."  
  


"Let me see," he said. I slid my pile of paper over to his end of the long desk. He flipped through it with the speed of an expert and clicked his tongue. "These were meant for the office downstairs."  
  


"That's what I said!"  
  


"Don't gloat. Here." He skimmed the top half from his stack and held it out to me. I set about reading through them.  
  


One letter stuck out; a steely grey envelope so broad it was nearly square, from the desk of Kaulra Dorn, right hand to Queen Justinia.  
  


Now—I respect Kaulra, and I understand that she has no choice but to take all Justinia's mad messages, but if I read one more of those guilt-inducing, vaguely threatening little rags, I might tear it up and mail her the pieces, and then we'll have a diplomatic crisis.  
  


"What does she  _ want _ from me?"  
  


Arhu marked his line with his index finger and put down what he was reading, instead reaching for his tea. "The dwarven queen again?"  
  


"She says I ignore the dwarves. Then when I invite her here, she won't come. So I offer to come to her, and she won't have me." I dropped my forehead onto the desk. "I know I can't depose her, but if a mutton fork were to find its way into her back, I wouldn't cry very hard."  
  


"Don't speak like that. You yourself signed the document."  
  


"I know," I muttered into the top of the desk. I smelled wood polish. "But there has to be a way I can solve this. There's got to be someone better fit."  
  


"The light touch, Safiya," Arhu reminded me. "Always favour the light touch. When the Divine puts her foot down too hard, she divides continents. She levels mountains. Your predecessor was well aware of this."  
  


"Wiping out the elves," I said. "Light touch."  
  


He scoffed. "I remind you—"  
  


"I'm not Lucian. You know that."  
  


"I know," said Arhu mournfully. "You are twice as powerful and not half as sensible."  
  


"Give me  _ time, _ " I snapped. "He had centuries to become what he was. I've had a handful of years."  
  


"We don't have the luxury of time." He held up the page he'd been reading. "A report from your general. There have been sightings of Voidwoken on the fringes of the Ancient Empire."  
  


I sighed. "Any attacks?"  
  


"Nothing of note, but he's asking your leave to divert forces from the Vanguard here in Arx."  
  


"What does the Empire think?"  
  


Arhu smiled grimly. "Ben-Mezd has left us the task of informing them."  
  


"Lovely."  
  


He handed me the report, and I put it aside to write up a directive later. I know Ifan's not a politician, but he could stand to give us a hand once in a while. I can just see him poring over his report, thinking 'I'm going to fight the Void, bugger everything else'. Who cares if we end up in a war with the Empire because we plopped down a division of ex-Paladins in their territory without any warning.  
  


But speaking of the Empire, my next letter was deep-red and stamped with a dragon seal—not from Hesthas, who uses black wax, but Sadha's golden signet.   
  


"From the Emperor?" asked Arhu, casting a glance.  
  


"The Empress." I broke the seal and scanned the letter. "She has some time on her hands this season. She wants to know if I'll take her portrait, here in Arx."  
  


"Take her—what manner of request is that?"  
  


"I started on a portrait when we were in the Emperor's palace. When we were meeting about that treaty. I suppose she wants to take that up again."  
  


He gave me a long, wary look. "And will you?"  
  


"I don't see why not," I said.  
  


"We are fighting a war. Is that any reason?"  
  


"We've been fighting off the Void for years now. I won't be leaving the Cathedral, you'll know exactly where I am if you need me."  
  


I thought he was going to give me an earful, but he didn't so much as sigh. "I'll give word to Sister Petra."  
  


"Thank you very much."  
  


The rest of the night passed slowly. We didn't get through the letters until the sky was black and the moon was out, and we had to light lamps upon lamps just to be able to see our work. I should have been miserable, but I was thinking of Sadha, of her low voice and that overpowering jasmine scent that followed her everywhere.   
  


What had suddenly made her want to see me? Maybe it was nothing more than what she'd said—there was a break in her busy schedule, and she wanted to spend it with me. Or—not with  _ me, _ but with a painter. Although there are hundreds of painters finer than me in Arx alone. There must be thousands more in the Empire.  
  


I've written her back, in a letter stamped with the blue, Source-infused seal of the Divine, that I'd be more than happy to have her at her earliest convenience, so I suppose we'll see.   
  


My tea is cold.


	2. Year 5, Day 219

I spent this morning outside on the balcony, with my father, looking out over the city. We do that now, every so often. He comes up and smokes that bitter-leaf into my face and doesn't speak.  
  


I think the first time he was here was last year, in the spring. One of the sisters gave me the word, and I was so baffled. I'd moved him into a nicer house, I didn't know what else he could want. In the end, he didn't want anything—at least nothing I could guess at. He just came up to my quarters and lit up a cigarette, and I wrinkled my nose and opened the balcony door to let the smoke out.   
  


He took it as an invitation, and we sat outside in the spring chill. I asked about Rhianu—his wife—and her children. Their children. A litter of little elves, four of them, all with my father's lank black hair.  
  


"Fine, Safiya." Always 'fine'.  
  


I remember being surprised to see him in daylight—in my mind's eye, he's always in a dim place, with long shadows falling over his face, but I remember thinking: he's not even that old. He's not as sunken and horrible as I thought. He's a married man with healthy children.  
  


I don't think the little ones know I'm their half-sister. I don't think he tells them where he's going when he visits me. The oldest is eight now, a big, wiry girl who wears carnations behind her ear.  
  


Today—this morning—he wore his long hair in a braid. There was a daisy on the end of it, swinging in the small of his back.  
  


"I like your flower," I said.  
  


He smiled, and as he did I tried to remember the last time I'd seen him smile. (I came up with nothing.) "My daughter puts it there," he said.  
  


It was early in the morning; we sat and watched the city wake. I could barely see the docks, but there was a cluster of large ships in the harbour—Imperial galleons, I thought, and then my heart jumped.  
  


One of the sisters—Liza—came up and apologised for disturbing us, but we'd just had word that the Empress had docked in Arx.  
  


"Already?" I demanded, as if the poor woman had any power to delay the ships.  
  


"Yes," said Liza. "Er, Sister Petra is already arranging matters downstairs, but please be ready to meet the Empress within the hour. Likely sooner." And she darted inside again.  
  


My father put out his cigarette and took a long breath. "I leave you to your guest, then."  
  


"I'm so sorry," I said. "We weren't expecting her for another two weeks. Next month? Or sooner? I can free up a morning."  
  


"I come when I have time," he shrugged.  
  


"Right. Tell Rhianu I said hello? I—I'd like to meet the little ones sometime."  
  


He turned his head sharply; the daisy fell out of his braid. "Go and meet your guest," he said, and left.  
  


I crushed the daisy under my shoe—I ground it into the floor until it was wrecked. Then I gathered the pieces into my hands, feeling so guilty I wanted to cry, and set them on the table before I went inside.  
  


I was surprised how quickly Sadha had made the journey; I've sailed between Arx and the Forbidden City only a handful of times, but it never took less than three months. (Of course, if I had to, I could cut through the sea and make the trip in an hour. I hope I never have to.)  
  


Was it possible she'd already been at sea when her letter came to me? Was she that certain I'd receive her?  
  


Whatever the case was, we weren't ready for her. We surely had a room somewhere, but it wasn't up to the standards of the Empress. No one had yet dusted the curtains or filled the fruit bowls with sugared grapes. And the servants were all going to need accommodation, too—or, at the absolute least, fare for an inn.   
  


In situations like this, it's my job to receive the honoured guest, and to stall her in the grand hall until the rooms are in order. So I picked out something white to wear and hurried downstairs.  
  


The front doors of the Cathedral were already wide open, and I could hear the commotion outside. Servants in rich clothes spilled inside, a cresting wave of jewels and perfume—Sadha in the centre, practically blinding. Her robes, deep blue, trailed behind her.   
  


She took my hands when she came to me, and held them tightly for a while. I looked into her eyes, that endless crystal blue. The sweet smell of jasmine was about her, as it always was.  
  


"From the bottom of my heart, my Divine, I wish to thank you for your hospitality and your time." Sadha gave me a shy smile—although— _ shy _ isn't the right word. I know her well enough by now to know that she's always playing at something. Whatever sort of smile it was, it made me feel warm.  
  


"Of course," I said, and I couldn't help smiling back. "I hope your trip wasn't too taxing, your Majesty."  
  


"Sadha," she whispered, casting a glance about her to make certain no one was listening in.  
  


"Sadha," I repeated, quietly.  
  


She nodded, satisfied, and her eyes sparkled. "I'm afraid I must reveal myself an awfully poor guest," she continued, at a normal volume. "I plan to retire for the day. I will find you, my lady Divine, when I have the strength for company."  
  


"I—oh. Will I see you tonight?" I asked. She gave me a curious look. My face flamed. "That is—tonight at dinner."  
  


"Ah," she said slowly. "Certainly we'll share many pleasant dinners before my return, but I. . .shan't be party to this one."  
  


"—all right," I said, trying to cover my disappointment. "I hope your day is restful, your Majesty."  
  


"Tomorrow," she promised, squeezing my hands in both of hers.   
  


I nodded. "Sister Ariadne will show you to your quarters." The sister I named scurried toward us and bowed deeply before the Empress.  
  


When Sadha and her entourage had disappeared into the western wing, I went back upstairs to my room and dug up the sketches I had made, years ago. Charcoal sketches, a stack of thick paper, smudged here and there because I hadn't treated them. I wondered what Hesthas had said when Sadha told him she was visiting me. I wondered whether they had argued.  
  


The sketches are terrible, anyway. Well—they could be worse. But they're so lifeless. I'm going to start from the ground up.   
  


I hope she's brought that blue dress.


	3. Year 5, Day 229

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is NSFW!

Since Sadha arrived, she and I have spent our days together. Sometimes she comes to my quarters after dinner(—that's where I'm painting, because it's private, and because I have this lovely cream-white wall for a background.)  
  


Sometimes, then, she won't come up until eight or nine in the evening, and we'll work through the last summer sunlight. Other times she's here from the afternoons;  
  


Today we spent the entire day shut up in my room, chatting as I painted. I'd told her I was learning to speak the Imperial tongue, and rattled off a few of the words I remembered. Sadha, always tactful, touched a claw to her mouth and managed not to laugh.

I filled in colours today: the deep-red of her scales; her brilliant blue eyes, and the simple linen dress. She has this beautiful way of posing—deliberate, and still—completely at ease.  
  


"All right," I said, when the sky was purple. "I think we're out of time."  
  


"Hmm," she said, slowly rising and stretching her arms over her head. "The day has flown away from us. I beg your pardon—I'm sure I didn't mean to take up so much of your time. Not today."  
  


I blinked. "What's today?"  
  


"Surely you know?" Sadha smiled sunnily. "Happy Safiya's Day."  
  


" _What?_ But—" I struggled out of my stained apron, threw it aside and strode toward the window. It was mostly quiet now, but a few people were still in the streets with sparklers—vendors were packing up their stalls. 

I'd missed the pilgrims, the song, and most of all: the pastries. "Hell," I said, faintly.  
  


"Do you know," began Sadha, sitting on the end of my bed, "my eldest still thinks Safiya's Day is hers. She cannot fathom that there is another, greater Safiya somewhere out in the world."  
  


I laughed. "She can have it if she wants it." I picked up the painting, easel and all, and set the whole mess in a corner where I wouldn't knock it over. (Hopefully.) "How are they, the little ones?"  
  


"Very well indeed!" She folded her hands in her lap. "They're growing into their potential awfully quickly. Stronger and cleverer each day—my youngest even has a gift for restorative magic. Their father is so proud."  
  


"Oh," I said, sitting down beside her (at an appropriate distance). "How is it with Hes—" I squeezed my eyes shut. "—er—with the Emperor?"  
  


Sadha turned her great blue eyes on me. "So you have his name," she said. Before I could speak, she went on: "No, he's quite well. The demands of the Empire are difficult for any ruler to bear, of course, but he. . .shoulders it with. . ." She shook her head. "I know you have both spent time together."  
  


My stomach dropped. "—of course," I tried, wiping my clammy palms on my work trousers. "He's a good friend."  
  


"Please don't insult me any further." Sadha smiled faintly. There was no anger in it—only grief. "I found. . .I came upon. . ." She was very quiet for a long while. I had the sense that if she hadn't had her scales to protect her, I would have seen her blush as hot as a kettle.  
  


"Found. . ." I began. What was there to find? I couldn't exactly have left my toothbrush in his bathroom. It had to have been—it had to have been that jade piece he'd brought, on my last night in the Palace.   
  


I felt—I don't know how else to put it. I felt guilt like I'd never felt in my life. I thought of Sadha walking into their quarters, dead quiet, with the wooden box in her hands. I wonder if either of them said a word. More likely she had caught his eye, put the box back where she'd found it, and neither of them brought it up again.  
  


"I never dreamed you would have his name," she said.  
  


"Sadha—" I lifted my eyes to hers. "You've been here for, what, two weeks, and you've had that weight on your mind the entire time—"  
  


"I planned to speak once we were alone." Her smile was pained and radiant. "But I—well, I've suspected for a while. I had you for an afternoon when you came to my Palace. I might have spoken then."  
  


"Then why—?"  
  


She sidled up to me, so that our legs touched. "It is not how I was raised. I hated to be crude about it. At least," she went on, placing her hand on my knee, "so I told myself. I think. . .I think the truth of it is that I enjoy our time together, Safiya. I didn't want to put an end to it."  
  


I couldn't speak.  
  


Sadha lifted her hand from my knee. "Send me away if you will."  
  


There were many sensible things I could have done in that instant. If I was a good woman at heart. But my mouth was dry, and when she'd touched me, every nerve in my body had sparked to life.  
  


She was watching me expectantly—watching for my signal. Her dress had shifted, baring her shoulder. I kissed her there, following the line of her collarbone, feeling the smooth scales against my lips.  
  


"Good," she sighed, and gently touched the back of my head, guiding me where she wanted me—the hollow of her neck—and lower, until the collar of the dress was in my way. I tugged on it with my teeth. Sadha giggled breathlessly. "Patience."  
  


I pulled away. She gave me a strange look, leaned in and pressed her lips to mine. I ran my fingertips along her throat; she shivered. Slowly she got to her feet and turned her back to me. Her tail swished idly as she undid each fastening, one by one, and the dress was looser and looser around her body. I watched as her hands found the last button, just above the base of her tail, and finally the dress fell away. My heart was pounding.  
  


Sadha turned to me again—and—the line of her body, her slender arms, the curve of her waist, the muscles in her thighs flexing beneath her skin as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. . .I was standing before I could think about it; I had the powerful urge to fall on my knees in front of her, and kiss her between her thighs, and hear my name from her lips.  
  


She must have seen it in my eyes. I started forward—"Don't move," she commanded. She didn't sound certain; it was as if she wanted to see whether she really had power over me. I was happy to show her: I stood stock-still, imagining the feel of her body under my hands. She approached me and began to unbutton my shirt. Once it was open, she eased it from my arms and tossed it aside.   
  


"Ah," she said, peering at my bra as if she had never seen one.  
  


"Can I move?" I asked.  
  


"No," she said stubbornly.  
  


I grinned. "Well, there's laces in the back."  
  


She huffed and came up behind me, pulling apart the bow I'd made, and then discarded the bra with a little hum of victory.  
  


"Oh!" she said softly. She took my breasts in her hands as if she was weighing them, running her fingers tentatively over my nipples. I groaned. "Ah. Are—a-are they very sensitive?"  
  


"Mm-hm." I covered her hands with mine and showed her the motion, the small circles she could make with her thumbs. She nudged one of my piercings in passing and I gasped. Immediately she froze, and started to draw her hands back—I caught her wrists. "You're doing fine, Sadha."  
  


She opened her mouth to speak, but she only narrowed her blue eyes at me, reached out and thumbed the golden piercing again. I made a sound of approval. Satisfied, she went about her work again, tracing circles.  
  


"Is it—ah—is it your first time with a woman?" I asked.  
  


Again, she stopped in her tracks. "Not—" she began, and cleared her throat. ". . .it is. . .a little more than that."  
  


"Sadha," I said. I understood: the Prince and the Princess were made for each other by Zorl-Stissa. And she had lived her life in secrecy. . ."Are you sure, then?"  
  


"I would not be here if I had any doubts about what I wanted." She teased at the waistband of my trousers, and, losing her patience, pulled them down over my hips. Her hands wandered lower, and I parted my legs to let her explore. She raked through the curly hair there, then searched with her fingers for the spot that—  
  


"There," I said roughly. She moved her finger and my hips jerked. "Ah. Just there."  
  


"Perfect," she murmured, taking hold of my arse with her free hand, pinning me in place.   
  


"Sadha," I said. She moved faster, pulling her body close to mine, pressing her fingers against me so hard it nearly hurt.   
  


"Look at me," she said sharply. My eyes had drifted shut.   
  


I looked into her face now, and flushed; she could see every change in my expression, hear every little sound I made. "Mm—Sa—ah—" I wrapped my arm around her waist, drawing her closer still.  
  


"Spend for me," she whispered into my ear. I gave her a show; twisting in her arms, moaning lowly as I looked into her eyes.  
  


"For you," I said, beaming. I took a deep breath. "Here, sit down."  
  


She smiled apprehensively and sat on the edge of the bed. I knelt and pushed her legs apart, pressing my lips gently down the length of her thighs. I ran my tongue over her sex, and kissed her deeply there. She put her hand in the back of my neck, spurring me on. I had one advantage here: no claws. So, very slowly, I eased two fingers inside her, all the while making long strokes with my tongue. She fidgeted, rocked against my hand, maybe hoping to bring my mouth closer. I crooked my fingers and her breath caught—she made these juddering little movements with her hips—until she came, and she pulled away from me.  
  


When I looked up at her, she still seemed frustrated.   
  


"Something the matter?" I asked.  
  


"No. I only. . .have you one of those. . ." She looked away. "One of those—implements?"  
  


Implements. I swallowed my laughter. "Have I a cock, you mean?"  
  


She shot me a look. "If you insist on vulgarity."  
  


I held up my hands and opened the second drawer of my nightstand. It was a heavy piece of dark cedarwood. I'd used it maybe twice in the past several years. I started to fix the harness about my waist when she stopped me.  
  


"I won't—lie back and be ravished," she said firmly.   
  


"But you asked—"  
  


"I— _I_ want to wear it."  
  


I blinked. "Oh."  
  


"If—that is, if—"  
  


"We'll make it work," I promised. "Here, stand up."  
  


She did. I came up behind her and kissed the back of her shoulder as I did up the straps. Her waist is much slimmer than mine—I put in a second knot for good measure.  
  


"It's—heavy," she said under her breath.  
  


"You can touch it, if you like. It's yours."  
  


She took a few steps around the room, watching the cock bob up and down between her legs. Glancing at me, she ran her finger along the shaft. I nodded back—emboldened, she closed her hand around it and started to make slow strokes. "Oh," she said, in a shaking voice.  
  


"What do you think?" I asked.  
  


"I—I think. . .I want—" There was a searing look in her blue eyes. She approached the bed again.  
  


"Whatever you want, Sadha." I put my arm around her as she sat down. "You just need to tell me."  
  


She kissed me hard and cupped my breasts, thumbing at my nipples so that I sighed against her mouth. "On your back," she breathed, once she'd broken the kiss.  
  


"Up to you, but you might have an easier time like this." I climbed onto the bed and went on my hands and knees. "So you can—"  
  


She's a quick study. She knelt behind me and took hold of my hips.  
  


"Just like that," I grinned. "Wait," I added, when I felt the hard wooden tip brush against me. I reached into the nightstand drawer for a phial of oil, and emptied it into my palm. Sadha was still kneeling on the bed. I kissed her along her jaw, skating my fingertips over the ends of her frills, and braced my dripping hand around her cock, until it glimmered with oil. "Better." I bit my lip. "What did you want, again?"  
  


She was ready for me this time. She took a breath. "I want you on this bed, Safiya, and—I want to—to be inside you."  
  


"Ah," I said. I went back to where I'd been, with my head resting on a pillow and my hips in the air. She took a moment to line up her cock with my slit and then, in one movement, pushed all the way into me. I breathed shallowly. I'd been expecting her to be hesitant, but this. . .She drew back and thrust into me again, _hard,_ and I decided this was better. "Hah—gods. Just like that."  
  


"Just so?" She seemed to lose her nerve and pushed in again, much slower.  
  


I groaned, more out of disappointment than anything else. "Go on, Sadha. I won't break— _ah._ There. _Please._ " She'd picked up her pace again, just a bit, and I ground against her cock, goading her. It was like I'd flipped a switch—she was merciless suddenly, and I cried out with every roll of her hips. Oil gathered between my legs and ran down my thighs. The feeling of fullness was overwhelming—as the heat pooled in the base of my stomach, I reached back and finished myself, rubbing in time with her strokes. "Sadha— _Sadha_ —" I let out a last long breath and slumped into the pillow. She pulled out of me abruptly; I went and untied the harness for her, and she set it on the ground. We lay side-by-side on the bed.  
  


"How was I?" she asked softly.  
  


"Perfect," I said, and touched her arm. "What did you think?"  
  


"Of—?" She gestured at the floor, where the discarded cock lay. I nodded. "I. . .understand the appeal. To have the Divine at my mercy. . . it's as if I had real power, even for a moment."  
  


I turned my head. "Is that what this was about?"  
  


"No!" Sadha burst out. "No. I was only making an observation." She cleared her throat. "Thank you. This was very pleasant."  
  


"Do you want to stay the night?" I asked.  
  


She considered me, but I could tell from the way she moved that she was going to leave. "We. . .shall see one another in the morning."  
  


"All right," I said, watching as she buttoned her blue dress.  
  


She left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so here we are again, at the fulcrum of the world's shittiest polycule! who needs relationship counseling when you can just put an ocean between yourself and your problems


End file.
